Can't Be Who You Are
by AshBlackRabbit
Summary: Gohan felt that if he let go he may never come back, he'd be swept away under the waves and never come back up, and he knew that if he did, in fact, go under, he'd be okay with it.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

* * *

Isolation was a term Gohan new like the back of his hand. Destruction and fear soon made themselves at home in his dictionary. Duty was the next to be added. He had started collecting these words before his memory had been fully functional. Looking back his first slivers of recollection weren't of his mother's warm embrace or of the rough, calloused palm of his father's palm against his forehead; instead, it was the cold bite of the wind as he sat alone on a towering plateau above the rest of the wasteland.

It was something he'd carry close to his chest for years to come. It was an anchor, reminding him of what he _had_ to be and what he had to let go. Sometimes, when the Earth was safe and the minutes dragged on like millennia, he wondered, no _anticipated_ , when the next threat would arise. Those were the nights he hated himself most. The nights he hated that his father only showed up when Earth was in danger— hated that he preferred the call of a fight over his family. Gohan knew it wasn't his fathers' fault. The primordial call was in him, too; those peaceful nights he could hear the banging of the gong, the hammering of drums, could feel the urge to _move,_ to _go,_ to _fight_ crawling beneath his skin. But unlike his father, he ignored the itch.

Ignoring the call was temporary, a slippery solution, but his fear kept a tight hold on his will. He was afraid, he couldn't pinpoint what caused such a knee-weakening fear, instead, he chose to clump it together with everything else. His fears were plentiful and they tore at his defenses with every fight, every spar. When he drew the line, he knew he was most afraid of hurting people, but he was also afraid of what would happen to him if he _did_ give in to the call. Gohan felt that if he let go he may never come back, he'd be swept away under the waves and never come back up, and he knew that if he did, in fact, go under, he'd be okay with it.

He would let himself drown.

No matter how hard he tried to fight the current the irresistible flood of rage and power would eventually erode his defenses and leave him vulnerable against the tide. It would take away his insecurities, but at what cost?

* * *

 _Welcome to my first Dragon Ball fanfiction, I promise the chapters will be way, waaaaay longer, but the prologue is important and needs to remain separated from the chunk that is chapter one. A quick explanation for those that want to know if following or reading this fic is what they should do: This is a look at canon with a darker, or rather, more realistic Gohan starting from the beginning of the series and ending at the Cell Games, everything past the Cell Games will be considered Au. I am undecided on how far this story will go or if I'll go all the way to super. If I do, obviously you can go ahead and disregard super as by that point the canon will have no hold on this fic. Leave a review or PM me and let me know your thoughts!_


	2. The Dead Zone

_**Chapter 1: The Dead Zone**_

 _ **Arc: Castle of Glass**_

 _ **"... Only a crack in this castle of glass, hardly anything left for you to see."**_

* * *

Tired eyes struggled to keep their attention on the page in front of them. The soft clicks of the wooden fan above him served as background noise that fueled his exhaustion. It was almost noon and the sun was shining from above through the canopy warming his skin. He had finished most of his work for the day and was on his last chapter. It was interesting, but he couldn't focus on it, his eyes skimming over the same two sentences repeatedly.

 _After a while, the neutral stimulus by itself will produce the same response as the unconditioned stimulus, like the dogs drooling when they heard the bell. This is called a_ _ **conditioned response**_ _._

Gohan blinked and jerked his head up. He had nearly been a goner there, the moment his head would hit his desk he'd be out like a light. Eyeing his book he closed it, he could finish the chapter after lunch. It gave him time to think about it anyway. He didn't understand why the dogs were eventually _conditioned_ but he did understand the connection they formed. He knew that when his daddy finally returned home after he left in the morning that it was lunch, and when he returned again later it was dinner.

Scratching his head he adjusted his hat and toddled off to his house, which was only a few feet away. His mom had agreed to make him an outside work area so that he could be outdoors on the prettier days. She had probably only agreed because it had been his birthday though. Daddy always laughed and said that his mom would die from worry if he was out of her sights for more than a few minutes. There was a story to it, something about when he was only a few months old and his stroller but his dad always stopped before he finished the story.

Opening the door he perked up at the smell of rice and vegetables that filled his nose the moment he walked in. His mother was starting on lunch so that meant his dad would be home within the hour and maybe he could get his dad to bring him along with him, where ever it was he went.

Before he could retreat to the kitchen to help his mom he heard a soft rumbling. Looking back over his shoulder he felt a grin climb to his face, "Mom! Grandpa's here!" He called out before rushing back outside. Stopping a few feet away, close enough to be seen, but far enough not to be in the hover cars way. The red vehicle slowed to a stop and his mom walked out of the house wiping her hands on her apron. Bouncing on his toes he watched as the dust settled and his hulking relative stepped out of the car allowing it to hover a bit farther from the ground.

"Dad! What are you doing here?" Mom questioned as she leaned against the doorway with a joyful smile.

The giant chuckled and popped the trunk. From the small car he hefted out at _least_ twelve presents all neatly wrapped and that was all Gohan could focus on. His fingers twitched as he felt the urge to lunge forward and snatch a gift or two out of his great arms. But his mom would be mad, he couldn't _not_ use his manners. It was impolite.

"You think I wouldn't come to see my _favorite_ grandchild on their fourth birthday? What kind of man do you take me for?" Gohan scrunched his nose and kept his mouth closed even though he wanted to say that he was the man's _only_ grandchild. He could hear his mom giggle but he was drawn to his grandpa's face. It was hollow, lacking the mirth it previously radiated.

"...Grandpa? Are you okay?" He asked as he tugged at the man's shirt. One of the stacked gifts slipped and hit him roughly in the head. Blinking back the tears he pushed his hat further upon his head and glanced up. The large man's face twitched in pain as he stared back at him with blank eyes, like the ones on the fish his dad caught. "Grandpa?" He called again taking a step back as the behemoth of a man fell to his knees.

"Oh my gosh! Dad!" His mom cried as she flew forward. He heard her take a sharp breath before her hand was glued like a vice to his shoulder. She tugged him backward and dropped into a stance he once saw his dad do. Half hid as he was behind her leg he peeked forward; standing over his unconscious grandfather was a small, shadowed figure. His fingers twisted into his mothers dress, unsure of what to do.

"Mom?" He whispered, afraid to raise his voice.

"The house. Go into the house Gohan!" She bit out as she pushed him backward. Scrambling to his feet he awkwardly tumbled into the doorway only to fall back onto his butt. In the shade of the house, another figure lurked. Dirt made itself at home under his nails as he used his hands to guide him back to his mother. He could feel her knees shaking through her clothes despite the brave face she put on.

"Gohan, listen to mommy." She too spoke softly, her voice not carrying through the clearing but having a rough edge he hadn't heard before, "Run when I say to, okay? Find daddy."

"But," he sputtered, "what about you?" He was scared, an obvious fact due to the tears welling in his eyes, but he wouldn't dare leave his mommy behind.

"Just _go_!" She snarled and kicked off, he knew his father enjoyed fighting, and his mother used to enjoy it too, but seeing it was a different story. He had watched his dad stretch in the mornings when he was up early enough, but that didn't compare to this. His mom practically glided through the air, her arm muscles bunching in anticipation. He wanted to stay and watch, to eagerly soak up her movements, but he was nothing if not obedient. He tried to run, with much less grace than his mother, into the dense but familiar forest but failed. A teal hand snatched him from the grassy floor and eliminated his vision. The last thing he saw was his mother's crumpled body, her neat bun undone leaving her hair to pool around her body.

He didn't have time to scream, not then, and not now. He sat on his bruised keels before a massive throne. A small, old looking man with murky light green skin sat perched delicately, but arrogantly, on the seat and looked down on him with eyes filled with malice and greed. For the first time in his short life, he knew fear. It bound his knees and tied around his throat, choking him and making him unable to move a single muscle. The man dismissed him with a single glance choosing to order one of his kidnappers to remove his hat. The tallest one— the one who took him— had large white hair and beady eyes. He plucked the dragon ball from the piece of cloth and crushed the remains of his hat under his heel. That's when Gohan knew that he, and his possessions, meant _nothing_ to these people. Ducking his head to his chest he fought against the tears that threatened to fall but he couldn't stop his lips from quivering or his teeth from clacking together. The four men laughed at him and he really, _really_ , wanted to go home. They could keep his hat, but he wanted his mommy.

He didn't think they would return him so easily, though, maybe if he asked nicely enough? His mom always told him that a little kindness went a long way, he just wasn't sure if it applied to this situation.

Gohan had to stop and just _breathe_ for a moment before he could even utter a word, which was shaky, at best, "Sirs?" The room quieted and he almost left reluctant to break it, "Can I go home now?" He looked at them with wide, terrified eyes, "please?" he added after seeing their mocking sneers.

The man on the throne, the leader, laughed deep and throaty. His thin, cracked lips parted into a smile that showed off his sharpened canines. The three men coward silently, their attention divided, feeling braver than he was he glared angrily at the laughing man, "Take me home now! If you don't you'll be sorry! My daddy is Goku and he's the strongest fighter in the world and when he gets here he'll teach you a lesson!"

The short man ceased his laughter, instead, he looked at him with dark and curious eyes, "Goku? The one who defeated King Piccolo? He is _your_ father?"

"Yeah, that's right! I'm his son so you better let me go!" Gohan almost felt secure in his words, his mom always told him he was well spoken and his dad always said that he would be there whenever Gohan needed him most. The two elements in which he felt most confident in intermingled and made his head thrum with confidence that he would be okay. The men would see reason and return him home.

Snickers filled his ears and he felt his face burn with embarrassment. One of the henchmen, the dark green one, had an ugly smile on his even uglier face. "Aww, what a _baby_! Is that all you know how to do? Cry for daddy? Heh, the apple fell a long way with this one, boys." He called to his peers. His short, thick fingers pressed against Gohan's forehead, the blunt nails leaving small indentations, "Well guess what _champ_ , we defeated Piccolo too, it's not that hard of a task."

Fear and mortification— a word he recently learned but never thought he'd use— tied a knot in his throat. The icy claws of desperation sliced at his stomach and any remains of confidence drained away with his tears. Gohan had never felt like this before, the feeling new and raw, the sensations too real to write off as a nightmare. Tucking his fingers into his pants he ground his teeth together and focused on the chill of the tile beneath him. The maelstrom of pure emotion that he felt turned in his stomach leaving him ill and… angry? He didn't have time to explore the new feeling despite it calling out to him. The vigor in which his anger tried to grip him was frightening and he immediately squashed the feeling, putting it in a tiny box and shoving it as far back as he could.

"Gohan!" The tiny, cruel man called startling him out of his trance, "You will become my new disciple." Completely caught off guard his sinking heart paused its descent. Focusing on the unknown syllables he rolled the word disciple over his tongue, sounding it out hesitantly. That wasn't a word that was covered in his dictionary back at home. Or maybe it was, and he had skipped over it.

"What's that?" He asked.

Quietly, from his back he could make out the distinct sound of the flamboyant teal man teasing him; he had said it meant that he could live but he didn't think that was right. Looking up to the elder man for answers he found himself hanging off the definition, "A disciple is… a loyal subject! You will listen to my every command. If I'm right, you have a great potential inside of you that I could harness."

Scrunching his nose, more of a habit than anything, he turned his back away from the megalomaniac, "No! I'm not going to listen to you. I refuse." Not that he saw it, but judging by the gawking men their leader must have been angered by his answer. A few grunts and half-formed words breezed past his ears but ultimately no words were spoken.

"Nicky! Get the brat out of my sight! You two, dragon balls, now!"

With the hasty command, Nicky, the one with funky white hair, scooped him up undisturbed by his efforts to escape and carried him to a smaller room adjacent to the throne room. Gohan wanted to throw a fit, a screaming, clawing, snot-filled tantrum, but as he looked through hazy eyes he couldn't even muster the energy to stick his tongue out at... Nicky, not with his wiry hand firmly holding onto his tail. It was such an underhanded thing to do! His tail was so sensitive and with him holding onto it like it was a jump rope he could barely make out coherent thoughts much less speak!

"Mmhm? You're much less rowdy than you were before? Have you calmed down? Got it all out of your system? Honestly, working for Lord Garlic isn't _that_ bad you know." Nicky prattled on, "It's mostly grunt work. Like, you know, shining his shoes! We haven't had a new member in centuries. You'll have to be housebroken of course, but it'll be just like raising a puppy! How exciting!" The man squealed and loosened his grip. Gohan blinked and barely had the time to throw his arms out before his skull smacked into the muddy-red tiles.

One by one he regained his thoughts, and then control of his arms and legs. It was an odd feeling, the rush of energy that rushed through his body once his tail was released. It certainly wasn't anything he had felt before, but then again nobody at home grabbed his tail either. He had, once or twice, accidentally tripped on it or laid down on it but it still felt like a feather compared to the led grip Nicky had on it. Now that he felt more like himself, he needed to run. He wasn't going to accept what Garlic demanded of him. Gohan wasn't going to become a disciple of a bully who disregarded others. No way!

He just had to wait for his daddy to come and rescue him. Sneaking a glance at the still chattering kidnapper he made up his mind. He would play a game of keep away; slowly picking himself up as to not draw Nicky's attention he took notice of the three large arches. One led back to the throne room, and the other two were an unknown variable. The exit on the left was dark and seemed endless but the one on the right had a light at the end of the tunnel.

Wiggling his toes he tapped the sole of his boots against the tile to assure himself that he wouldn't slip and took off. Ignoring the indignant cry of, "Hey!" he kept his eyes on the prize. If he could just manage to get himself high enough, he might be able to spot the way out of this dull castle. The quiet sound of his boots mashed together with the sound of his racing heart and he couldn't help but laugh— it was kind of fun! Nicky was tall, and he had longer legs, but Gohan was shorter, quicker on his feet. He ducked away from Nicky's grabbing hands and ran through his legs when he was cornered feeling more alive than he ever had before!

It was a funny feeling, not being scared or nervous despite his situation, it practically made his blood boil from excitement. It was like a chant that kept him going, his feet moving without any command, his tail thrashing about in unrestrained joy. It was like hunting, except he was the prey leading the predator to— to what? Though he stopped with a loud 'skid' across the tiles his mind raced. Slapping his cheeks he tried to reign in the massive grin that threatened to split his face; it seemed nothing wanted to work with him, not his mouth, or his tail, or his heart that was still going, ' _thump_ , _thump_ , _thump_ ,' without fail. His heart was so loud and powerful in his ears it reminded him of drums threatening to drown out any sane reasoning that crossed his developed brain. It was weird, but not weird enough for him to stop, he waited for his keeper to catch up with him before darting away. This time when he turned to lunge out the first door he saw, light blinded his senses temporarily.

"Get back here, brat!"

The top of the castle held no interest for him. Not even the miles of orange and purple painted clouds that stretched on for miles could hold him still. In the center of the stonework sat a mighty tree. Not as large or as enchanting as the ones back home, but it was a start. Cloth boots and bare fingers felt along the rough grooves in the bark as he used the small footholds; for the first time midst of his homesickness and adrenaline, he almost felt relaxed. The tree was firm and supportive under his weight and he made no sound as he traversed the branches; the bright red of the apples was hypnotic in their swaying and he grabbed two. Shoving them in his coats inside pockets he dangled himself lazily by his tail scanning for his pursuer.

The man was idle by the ledge overlooking the vast abyss. His hands were scrubbing down his face in obvious frustration, he was tired of the game. Jumping down from his hidden seat he approached the man warily. When he was sure that Nicky wasn't going to attack he pulled one of the apples out of his pocket, "All this running around sure made me hungry." That caught the man's ear. His head whipped around so fast that his large, curly hair nearly smothered his face and caught in his mouth. Taking a bite of the fruit in his hand he took some smug pride at the panicked look his captor sported.

"No! Put that down! Those aren't for kids." Scrunching his nose up he looked down at the apple, sure it tasted a little funny but it was really good. He ignored the order and continued to chomp on the fruit all the way to the core. Licking his fingers clean of the sticky juice he patted his stomach happily, although one apple wasn't much help, he hadn't had lunch so any treat was worth it. He'd save the other one for later in case his dad took longer than expected.

"It's fine, it was just an apple." Seeing the sweat bead off of his blue skin had Gohan a little worried. The snack in his stomach felt heavy in his gut and he wondered if he had made the wrong decision in choosing to eat it.

"Heh.." Nicky laughed nervously, "Well kid, prepare yourself for a _trip_."

As if those were the magic words the spell wove over his mind and flushed his veins with its haze inducing sludge. Tongue heavy, the sandpaper feeling of his mouth stopped him from crying out. Arm, unresponsive. Legs, unresponsive. It was a struggle to blink and his cry came out in the form of a laugh. Blunt fingernails dug into scraped palms but while he could see it, he couldn't feel it. The smog that clouded his brain curled in his lungs and released through his eyes, burned the retinas that were lost in the dizzying colors that threatened to blind him. The world was so bright, and yet he felt afraid, wanting to cower in the dark comfort of his bed. It was a struggle to breathe, to blink, to think. His thoughts escaped him like sand, slipping between the cracks of his fingers despite his grip. Gut churning and nose running he tried to cry.

Instead, he laughed, and laughed, and laughed _until_ he cried.

Cold stone rested under his head and gave him a reprieve from the heat that threatened to burn him inside out. Fingering the rock he tried to squish his face as far into the ground as possible, failing, only to succeed in scratching his of pain shot through his face but it was easily ignored by the urge to sleep. His slumber wasn't peaceful, or forgetful. He dreamed of nothing, he couldn't move, couldn't breathe and even in his sleep, he couldn't escape the foul effect the fruit had on him. When he did wake, it was because of a devastating explosion that shocked him straight out of his rem cycle. Bright supernovas had flashed before his closed eyes shaking him to his core with fear and recognition.

His daddy was here.

White noise buzzed through his ears as he stumbled through the winding halls. He wasn't sure of where he was going, only that he had to go. Gohan almost felt regret over his game that led him so far away from the main stronghold. The walls shook around him and the ceilings crumbled but he stayed glued to the sides of the hall and scurried as fast as he could taking time to peek his head through each door. Finally, fear and paranoia won out and he rushed up the grand staircase. If he couldn't find the way back down, he'd have to climb up.

The stairs hadn't led back to the roof, but it had led to the upper levels of the castle. He was on a small walkway in a room that revealed the inner workings of the fort, he could see straight down into the throne room. He didn't see his daddy, but he did see a shorter man in an identical gi. Gohan knew him though, not in the way one knows their friends or family, but in the second-hand stories his father passed down of his adventures as a teen. Balancing on the railing, he hooked his tail around a stray support beam and pulled himself onto it. Maybe if he got the short man's attention he would be able to get him out of here. Bracing himself against the steel he called out to the figure below.

Not even a nod was thrown his way; the man hadn't heard him. Readying his voice to call even louder he cried as the building shook and more of the building's structure crumbled. Hissing as his knuckles turned white by the sheer pressure he used to hold on he desperately hoped the martial arts student would see him quick enough to assist. Watching the fight down below he was in awe as the two fighters— the orange gi-clad man and his kidnapee— met each blow without fail. Their muscles contracted and rippled with the contained force they were emitting. It was similar to one of his previous lessons on energy; he wasn't far enough in the lesson to completely grasp it as he had to focus on other subjects too, but he always paid science a little closer look, if he tried hard enough he could apply the theories he remembered. Kinetic energy sat coiled up in their chest, flowing into their bicep down to the forearm but it burst out of their fists. Skin cracked and blistered around their knuckles and shockwaves were sent back up their arms like a cycle. He studied hard to make his mom happy, but he also studied because he enjoyed learning things. It was his scholarly nature that had forced him to pause in his escape mission, but he felt like he learned something invaluable anyway. Maybe when he got home he'd ask his dad, or mom, for a fighting demonstration to apply his theories.

Enraptured as he was in his thoughts he didn't notice the cracking of the pillar he clung to. A sharp gasp escaped his throat before he was jostled from his safe space and left to free fall, mountains of rock and steel quickly followed his decent leaving him buried alive. Gohan wanted to say that he had the mind to call out to his father's friend, or that he tried to shift his gravity to lessen the blow, but he didn't. He was too scared to even try to make a sound and when he fell he froze. He did nothing to stop the maroon tiles from getting closer.

Stars bloomed over his eyes combating the awful feeling of sickness that built up in his stomach. Pain shot up from the tips of his toes to the tips of his fingers, a dull ache sunk into his muscles and the breath was sucked out of him. Inhaling was hard, not only did his lungs not comprehend the command but he didn't have a surplus of oxygen as he was suffocating under pounds of heavy concrete. Twitching his fingers he whined and blinked through the pool of tears blurring his vision. Something heavy pressed into his head making it hard to move. It felt just like earlier, except that what he was experiencing wasn't an effect of a cursed apple. Another piece of debris tumbled onto his tail and he screamed. Thrashing his hands out he clawed at the cement that started to surround him on all sides.

"Daddy!?" He sobbed, " _Daddy_!" Gohan screamed between great heaving wails. Black crept into the corners of his eyes and the rest of his life steadily escaped him. Cutting and slicing the skin around his fingers as he struggled to find a purchase he moaned as he felt the separation of nail and meat. Drawing his hand back to his chest he stuck his abused finger in his mouth. The sour taste of copper was almost flooded out with the overload of his saliva. Listening for anyone was useless, his ears ringing with far too much pain to be of any use.

Anger, fear, and hopelessness circled through his head playing like a cracked record. He didn't _want_ to be here, he didn't _want_ to hurt, and he certainly didn't _want_ to die here! Slapping his palm against his prison he screeched. He wanted to be home with his parents and he wanted to read with his mom and hang off his dad and, and…

Hiccupping he glared at the dust covered floor. He couldn't lift his body up due to the crushing weight on his back. Slapping his palm again he wailed, his rage becoming prominent, what did he do to deserve this? He didn't ask to be kidnapped. He slapped the ground harder, unaware of the crack that formed. Against his will he was brought here, forced to spend his day in a cold castle with four bullies. Gritting his teeth he felt a new high come over him unlike the two he felt today. Red ate out the black that covered his eyes and he could feel his body swelling. His hands fisted and his shoulders curled in on themselves.

Heat simmered in the air around him, crackling and hissing it felt like an extension of himself. Space was tight but he felt himself prop his knee up, then his arm, and then his other knee. His tears were drying but his hate grew. With slow, drunk coordination he rolled his shoulders and flexed his back. The rubble blasted away from his body.

All around him hell reigned.

The sky was a fiery orange and in the sky replacing the sun was a shimmering vortex that rippled the very sky it made itself home in. Wind whipped past his cheeks, scratching at his cheeks he felt the tingling sensation of his hair brushing his ears. Through a fractured kaleidoscope gaze, he saw his father, beaten down and clinging onto a pillar, and holding up the other man who wore the same gi as him. Whistling breezed past his ears, combining with the thick drums that pounded away in his head he felt drawn in by the symphony. Shifting his feet as if to get into dancing position he cried out. His voice intermingled with the song flowing through his body, channeling it and cultivated it into something less ancient and more aware. Grabbing ahold of the melody he roared with the crescendo and felt all of the anger he gathered disperse.

.

.

.

.

Waking up was surreal, like looking through water. The soft, orange material his dad was fond of pressed against him and he clung to it, his fingers wrinkling the material. Soft hands brushed over his hair and he felt cool bandages press onto his scrapes and bruises. Humming at the nice feeling he let himself be lulled into a serene trance. He slept with his parents for two weeks before he decided to confront them on why they always looked so nervous. They didn't tell him why and he didn't bring it up again but he could tell his mom was more adamant than ever that he stay inside where she could see him and his dad put up a bigger fight on wanting to let him out to play with him.

Mom cried and dad frowned.

There was stress placed on his family and he couldn't help but think he played a part in it.

* * *

 _Welcome! You've made it to the end of the chapter, so uh, congratulations! For the most part, this is just a rewrite of the Dead Zone movie, but with my own improvements. Some places have been changed or altered, such as what Gohan's learning- in the movie it was something about beetles?- I changed it here to science mostly for one: to foreshadow and two: Easter egg! The interaction between Garlic and Gohan and the henchmen had been altered (in the movie he still told Gohan that he wanted him as his pupil I just added a bunch of random angst). The scene where Gohan is drunk/high isn't as profound as I wanted to write it, or as long and detailed but he is a minor and has no clue what is going on, and pretty scared so I hope I did it justice. Also, yeah the ending was weak but i'm trying to keep it in mind that he went through a traumatic experience, and is young enough to repress the incident. You may notice that the writing sort of fluctuates? It's on purpose! Some parts are a tad repetitious and others are vivid and serious in descriptions. The reason is Gohan's age. In the start of Dragon Ball (Z) he is four, so I headcanon that the Dead zone happens around or on his fourth birthday. And in case you were wondering or were aware but wanted clarification, yes, the title, arc title, and quotes are from the band Linkin Park, I think the songs fit. The quote is a reference to, in my opinion, how small and insignificant Gohan is right now to the plot. But of course, we know he's going to turn into a beast which brings me to relate him as a crack in a glass castle. It may be small but if you add enough pressure it is enough to collapse the entire structure._


	3. This Is Home

_**Chapter Two: This Is Home**_

 _ **Arc: Castle of Glass**_

" _ **Take me down to the river bend, take me down to the fighting end…"**_

* * *

Gohan spent more time than normal in the forest.

His parents still hadn't recovered from whatever disturbed them; he saw it every time his mom kept his door cracked at night and in the way his dad would stick around a little longer during the day. He could hear it in the way his mom's voice cracked at night when she talked with his dad in hushed whispers that didn't escape his sensitive ears. It was especially painful to see her flinch whenever he would disappear into the thick growth that surrounded his house. Gohan couldn't help it, he couldn't stand to be around the tense air that filtered through the walls. The scared look in his mom's eyes made him feel trapped in his own skin.

Gohan spent most of his time in the forest.

He still studied, taking a book or two with him when he left, but he couldn't concentrate on the text, not really. The words of wisdom and science still called out to him from the bleached pages but he found more solace in the old energy that stayed impressed into the towering trees. The bite of the rough bark became his new comfort place.

Even now, with his feet dangling yards above the ground and the thick tome over his legs he could feel the discomfort underneath his skin. He felt restless like he was stuck in a rut, only he couldn't climb out of it. The book, an interesting study on the development of children, could only hold his interest for so long. Glancing at the pages he set himself to work in reading a few more sentences before calling it quits.

 _"...Childhood abuse is positively related to adult depression, aggression, hostility, anger, fear, anxiety disorders, and personality disorders… Kessler and Magee found childhood abuse to have consistent significant effects on early onset and recurrent depression and that violence from siblings or multiple family members (e.g., both parents) is most strongly associated with recurrent depression. Retrospective studies also show that childhood abuse has consistent effects on the first onset of early adult psychopathology."_

Closing his book he was filled with a sense of closure knowing he would never turn into one of those statistics. His mom and dad would protect him, as they promised they would. It made him feel a little guilty too, though, he had retreated to the forest so often without giving his home a second thought. Instead of running away from the problem he wanted to try helping. If they all sat down and talked it out Gohan knew they could get to the bottom of the problem.

With newfound confidence replacing his previous hesitance he threw the book down to land in the plush grass and turned on the branch to begin his own descent. Digging his fingers into the wood he scaled down the tree gracefully, a result of his multiple trips. Experienced or not his limbs were still clumsy. He slipped and tumbled to the bottom of the tree, tears trickled down his cheeks and he let out a loud wail. The shock of the fall more worrying to him than the pain itself; the only visible sign of his fall being the torn material over his knee and the bloody cuts that covered his pale skin. Sniffling he let out another cry and pushed himself into the trunk of the tree, grabbing his book from where it lay he pulled it to his chest and glared at his skinned knee.

"Gohan?" Glancing up he was jostled out of his pouting by the sight of his daddy; his dad looked heavenly, the sun filtered through the cracks of the leaves and highlighted his father's silhouette, his face looked pensive —another new word— as he gazed down on him. "It's okay son," he said as he crouched down. His large hands disappeared inside of his gi and pulled out a small container of salve. Grabbing ahold of his leg his dad gently pressed his slime covered finger to his abused knee shushing him when he hissed.

"It hurts," Gohan said as he wiped away the remainder of his crocodile tears.

"It'll sting for a bit, but you'll feel all better," his dad retorted, "you've got to be careful, I know I've had my fair share of falls. This is nothing!" Capping the balm he placed it back in his gi and helped him to his feet. Gohan concentrated on the rough feeling of his dad's hand holding his smoother one to replace the ache of his injury.

Seeing now as the perfect opportunity to interrogate his dad he jumped on the opportunity, "I have a question." His dad hummed not at all curious. Gohan was a little scholar and tended to ask a lot of questions so it wasn't out of the blue, "What's wrong with you and mommy?" The question managed to shake his ever sturdy father and Gohan guessed that maybe the root of the problem was deeper than he thought.

"Nothing's wrong Gohan." His dad argued. Gohan could feel his stare hardening and his nose scrunching as his lips screwed up into a displeased expression. The man he looked up to squirmed under the weight of his stare. His black eyes meeting his own. Then, he cracked, "Chi-Chi just _doesn't_ … we want different things, is all."

"Like what?"

His father looked at him, really _looked_ at him, and _dismissed_ him. His hand fell from his smaller one and grinned, "Why don't I show you how to make the medicine? It'll come in handy with all of your outdoor adventures. If you're anything like I was, by the time you turn fourteen you'll be halfway across the globe."

"I wouldn't leave you or mommy!" Gohan quickly shot down and recoiled at the look his father shot at him, like the notion of not leaving was odd. He felt smaller than he was. For the remainder of their outdoor trip, Gohan kept his mouth closed and followed, his brain absorbing the knowledge of the medicinal herbs.

When the suns fingertips caressed the tops of the trees and it shone directly from above his dad disappeared again. He stood solitary in his once comforting forest feeling even more displaced. Casting one last longing look back at the twisting trees he retreated towards the clearing his home waited for him in.

If he couldn't get answers from his dad, he'd get them from his mommy.

Gohan fled the forest as if it was burning.

Huffing with his hands placed on his thighs he hesitantly opened the back door. He could hear his mother humming and the clanging of pots and pans as she worked tirelessly in the kitchen. If she ever spent her free time relaxing, Gohan wouldn't be any the wiser. It seemed like she lived in the tiny space with how much time she spent there. She had told him once when she was spent on the floor and staring into the empty pantry, that her husband would honestly eat them out of house and home. It made him feel a little bad, while he didn't eat as much as his father he certainly ate more than his mother. Just an extra plate, but still.

Shying behind the dinner table he stuck his tongue to his teeth, not wanting to upset his mom but wanting answers all the same. She looked concentrated and busy and he didn't want to interrupt her but… The choice was ripped out of his hands in the end. His mom ceased humming and turned her head to him as if she could sense him standing there.

"Gohan? What's wrong?" She softly cooed, her hands flew to her apron, drying them off quickly before kneeling in front of him. Cold, damp fingers slid over his forehead and brushed through his shoulder-length hair. Tilting his head into her hand he willed his feet to stop shifting and his eyes to meet hers.

"Talk to me, monkey." The moment she murmured his nickname is when he lost the battle against his will.

"Did I do something wrong?" He blurted before he could think of a smarter way to phrase his question. Tears gathered in his eyes as he watched his mom recoil away from him as if he hit her. With his bluntness, he wouldn't be surprised if his words felt like a punch.

"Oh no, baby, what makes you think that..?" Her eyes narrowed, "Was it that no-good father of yours? I swear sometimes Goku doesn't know how to filter his mouth…" Quickly tangling his hands into her pretty dress he stopped her from rising. His lips quivered and he knew by the tight feeling in his throat he would begin to cry at any moment.

"No! It wasn't daddy! It's been like this all month!" He yelled, voice rough with the creeping sensation of sadness, "You've been sad and dad's been lingering around the house more and you two aren't getting along, and, and!" He stuttered as a loud wail bubbled past his lips. Large tears tracked down his cheeks in hot trails and no matter how many times he wiped them off on his sleeves they kept coming.

Mom stayed quiet deciding to let her arms wrapping around him bringing him into her lap, she rocked him softly, shushing him under her breath. He buried his face into the creases of her dress taking in the sweet scent of grass and mochi. Thin fingers threaded through his hair and her lengthy nails scraped softly across his scalp sending tingles down his spine. One hand traversed the length of his back and eased the bristled fur along his tail; with each stroke of her hand, he felt his sadness drain out of him only to replace itself with exhaustion.

"It's not your fault, little monkey," she started, her voice barely above a whisper, "your dad doesn't understand a lot of things Gohan. He doesn't know how to be a dad or a husband, but he tries hard. And we have to be _patient_ , and being patient is _hard_." Through his own relaxing tremors, he could feel her shoulders shake a little. "I love him so much, but he _doesn't_ _understand_. Goku has always been a man that wants so much _more_ than anyone else, wants more than anyone could _give_." She continued and he could barely keep his eyes open. He wanted these answers, but instead of satisfaction, he was filled with bitter confusion. More questions than answers were allotted to him.

"I don't understand." Gohan managed to get out past the yawn that consumed his lips. He could feel his mom freeze as if she wasn't expecting him to remain awake during her talk. He felt her lips press against his head and a soft hum build in her chest.

"It's okay, I don't want you to _ever_ understand honey. I just, Gohan— I want you to be _great_ , and your dad does too, but not in the same way." He wanted to struggle, to fight against the lull of sleep as its clawed hands shackled around his ankles and dragged him deeper into the well that held his body together. The warm waters lapped at his body, the ebb and flow of the tide hypnotizing him until his head went under.

* * *

 _Not the start of the serious but these scenes are important as we don't see much of the Son's home life aside from the brief comical moments and the snippets of Chi-Chi's overdone but understandable rage. Don't look at me like that, i know you all are thinking 'understandable!' but my reasons for thinking this will be shown in just a few chapters. Anyway, back to my main thought, living with Goku can't be easy, he trains like breathes, eats like a hundred starved men, and is overly naive about everything but fighting. The differing wants of both Chi-Chi and Goku must clash a decent bit, not to mention or try to play on the cliche, but Goku is just about indifferent to the lives Chi-Chi and Gohan live, and we don't get any evidence to dispute this. Hell, in one bit we see Goku was more worried about eating than naming his son. I wanted to put in a small look into their home and the struggles that occured after the Garlic situation. Both are aware of the power Gohan holds. Chi-Chi is scared of it and Goku is excited. But this is my personal opinion, and if you're here for Gohan angst then you must at least partially be open to me flaming on both Goku and Chi-Chi equally._

 _Next chapter is the beginning of the manga._


	4. My Uncle and Me

_**Chapter 3: My Uncle and Me**_

 _ **Arc: Castle of Glass**_

" _ **Warm me up in a nova's glow, and drop me down to the drain below..."**_

* * *

Abnormal, an adjective, meaning not normal. The word stayed on his mind for a month; it had been exactly a month from the time he had approached his parents about their odd moods. With his thoughts out in the open, it was like everything reversed. Like nothing ever happened. His mom acted like that evening in the kitchen didn't matter and his dad would disappear for hours on end again. It was like they were trying to make him forget, trying to make him slip back into his place as they had theirs. But to him, trying to return to his place was chilling. Like trying to put on a shirt that didn't fit anymore.

His parents _were_ arguing again this morning, though not as bad as it used to be. Mom had to go meet Grandpa, something about pesky politics and old age. Dad, on the other hand, was talking about an island and friends. His mom was going to take him with her but his dad said it was time to meet his family.

Gohan was unaware that his dad had any family, none of them ever came to visit after all. When he was asked for his input of where he wanted to go he felt guilty. His mom looked so defeated when he picked his daddy. Gohan didn't want his mom to be sad, but he didn't like politics, he tended to leave his history homework last because of it! It was boring and stiff. He also didn't want to admit that he picked his father to impress him. Not at all. He was simply won out with the idea of fun in the sun at the beach while getting to meet his extended family.

Mom had accepted his answer without a fight, telling him to go play until his dad was ready to leave; he knew it was just an excuse for his mom to talk to his dad but he didn't question it. He knew where questions got him now. So he found his way back to the forest. It was still as looming and endless as before but not as comforting. Before, he found it comforting, now? Now, it was daunting.

Instead of climbing the trees with the sole purpose to be higher than his problems he was caught up in the paranoia of the rustling underbrush. It felt like a shadow was tailing him, moving him to escape it by going further and farther into the dense foliage. The trees were thicker, and the sunlight was slim. It felt older, more ancient than the wood surrounding his home. Small bugs flitted through the air leaving behind wispy trails of light that he followed.

Eventually, his feet led him to a quiet but fast-moving stream that cut through the land with an ease that suggested the body of water had existed for a longer time than he did. Crouching down he let his fingers dance in the water, flinching he quickly pulled his hand out, the water was much more violent than it looked. He needed to be careful, with deliberate steps he slowly backed away, putting as much space between him and the misleading waters behind him. Who knows what would happen to him if he slipped in? Maybe he'd drown or maybe the current would take him out before the water could. Gohan felt himself jolt, scared at the idea of slipping, of the unpredictable.

The unpredictable was scary… _because_ he didn't know.

He didn't know how the day was going to go, or the reunion, or the return. What if his dad's family disliked him? He could make a mess of himself, or they could pick on him for how he held himself. His dad did it enough, not purposely, but he could now count on both hands how many times he'd have to explain a word or two to his dad. What if they thought he was weird for how much he knew? Gohan didn't know where he placed in academic wise. Mommy always said that he was bright, especially so for his age, but he didn't follow a strict curriculum. He'd always pick and choose his course work putting more time and effort into one subject over the other. Maths and science came first. Calligraphy came second, his mom hammering Kanji and Hiragana in his skull; he wouldn't start katakana for another year at the rate he was going. History was last on his list. It wasn't that he hated it, but it was boring and malicious. Men fighting men over land and power. Men slaughtering villages and burning them to the ground. The immortal fire of Fry-Pan mountain. Countries sectioning themselves off for protection. The Red Ribbon tyranny beginning. The various sections he's skimmed of the many martial arts tournaments that were seconds away from Armageddon. The chapter dedicated to King Piccolo's brief terror left him many nightmares, and he wasn't even halfway through his section.

The only comforting thought was the sly comment his mom had slipped in about his history book: " _Goku has single-handedly defeated more than half of those foes in that book. Honestly, your daddy is a hero, monkey._ "

Not that she needed to tell him, the bland words that watered down the true terror of their history had already been told to him in bedtime stories. They had been far more watered down than the book had informed him though. In the stories he was told, his father was the hero that saved the day before the demon could win. In the book, the devil had mysteriously disappeared after he let loose hell with the dead soon rising after his vanishing.

Gohan marveled at how easy it was for the printing companies and the news to simply cover up his dad's role in the action. Would he be forgotten and traced over that easily? Would he ever accomplish anything _worth_ covering up? Gohan doubted it. He was content with his quiet life.

Quiet, maybe, he thought as his eyes focused in on the royal shimmering blue of a butterfly, but not boring. He laughed as he walked towards it, its wings fluttered easily and he picked up the pace, "Wait Mr. Butterfly! I just wanna look!" Following it away from the rapids he stopped at one of the taller trees where the insect sat just out of his reach. Even on his tippy-toes, he couldn't reach it! He could try to scale the tree, as he did with the ones closer to home, but this one had no low hanging branches for him to try and latch onto. The bark was smooth too, not a hand or foothold in sight to give him a boost. Luckily he didn't have to think too hard on it as the butterfly abandoned its seat and continued on its path.

"Hold on!" He called out to it as he rushed to keep pace with it.

Gasping, he rolled and hurried to his feet, the root around his foot gone as he looked for the forgotten bug. It was nowhere to be found but he was back into a less cluttered area of the forest. His ears pricked with paranoia.

Just because it looked familiar didn't mean it was. His clue was the soft noise that came from the bushes to his left. Not many animals stuck around his home, mostly due to his father scaring them off, and the ones that remained were too tiny to kick up a ruckus. He hoped it was just a big bunny and not one of the meaner mountain animals.

Walking closer to the sound he crouched restlessly in front of the bush, "Mr. Butterfly? That you?"

"Rrr'augh!" Was the unpleasant noise that greeted him. Tumbling backward he starred in tears at the sleek, looming figure of a big cat. Using his fingers he managed to push himself back a couple more feet before the cat growled again in displeasure. Sitting shock still, as to not become cat kibble, Gohan prayed that the mammal would soon be on its way.

That wasn't the case as he sauntered forward on its haunches, drool sliding down its two canines. As the beast got closer a sharp pain bloomed in his eyes. Rubbing them roughly he tried to think up a method to escape, "I got it!" The big cat crouched at his voice, "Play dead!" He said to himself as he fell backward with his eyes sewed shut.

Though he couldn't see it, he imagined the mountain lion creeping closer to him; the beast was standing over him, his hot breath over his neck as he decided whether or not to _chomp_ …! The animal snarled and Gohan could feel it vibrating as its teeth grazed his head. Shrinking in on himself he willed not even a breath to escape his trembling body.

When the sound was gone, and his body unfroze, he sat up. The beast was gone, but so was his hat. Anyone else would be happy to say that they survived without a scrape. But he wasn't anyone, and that hat wasn't _just_ a hat. His dad gave him that hat. It was precious to his dad, he'd said so himself when he gave it to Gohan, and Gohan could see it every time he looked at it. If not the red material then he at least needed to retrieve the glowing orb that rested in it.

"Wait! Come back here with my hat!" He yelled as the tears he tried hard to ignore fell down his face. His dad would be _so_ disappointed if he lost it! He didn't want his dad to be disappointed in him again! He _needed_ that hat! He took off as quick as possible, yelling his small lungs off all the while. Boots crunching against soil were the only thing he focused on. His eyes were _entirely_ too blurry for him to see through so he had to focus hard to hear the big cat's feet and focus even harder to make sure he followed the sound right. He stayed close enough on its heels but with his flailing and sobs, he spooked it away every time he got close.

Eventually, his blind panic worked against him and he twisted his ankle in a thick root, the grass cushioning his fall but not his momentum. His roll had carried him into a bush and — _over a cliff!_

Gohan was _falling_. And he was _falling_ quick. The ability to scream, to cry, to yell for help was taken from him in his plummet. He was bound by the forces of inertia and gravity as he stared into the wide blue expanse of water below. Running calculations in his head, the only thing he could do, the end result was unchangeable. He was going to _die_.

He didn't want to die. But his ears popped at the rush of wind and blood rushed into his skull and he could feel his vision flickering with each foot closer to the ground.

Eyes chock full of tears slid close, a result of the pressure building, and he prayed. The force needed to throw his arms out _hurt_ ; if he could spread himself wide enough then he could slow down the momentum and maybe it wouldn't hurt so much.

It did work in a way, and Gohan swore he would redouble his efforts on science as it had been his only savior in the moment of fear, he didn't stop his flight but he _did_ manage to catch his tail on one of the branches that jutted out oddly from the cliff side. He had shallowly missed a ' _splat_ ' against a lip, one that he hadn't seen, of rock that thankfully continued to circle the entire mountainside. His tail untangled, leaving him to gracelessly fall onto the earth below. With shaking arms he pushed himself onto his feet trying to get his heart out of his ears. Though his body shook he couldn't make himself think or act. He just… walked. With his tongue slack and eyes unfocused he felt an odd sort of relaxedness; Gohan knew he was still terrified, and that he should be crying but it just didn't happen.

Sniffling, the first sign that he was actually alive, he hiccuped and looked around, seeing if he was any closer to home. He wasn't. If anything, he was back to the starting point. The river still flowed fast and undisturbed. It was a perfect contrast to his own shaken and disturbed mind. In his self-absorbed trance, he was almost grateful; the river splashed hypnotically against the rocks and the sound of the water trickling made his stomach settle. Shakily exhaling he blinked and really _looked_ at his surroundings, letting the calming air of the old woods relax him fully he smiled as he watched a bluebird perch on a log resting against two large rocks.

Inching closer he hefted himself up onto the log and crawled until he was centimeters away from the preening bird. Propping his head up onto his hands he watched as the tiny creatures head cocked and laughed at the soft, cheerful sound it cooed back at him. Slowly raising his hand, as to not frighten it, he watched with unrestrained glee as it jumped off the bobbing wood and tried to land on his skin.

It missed.

No, the bird didn't miss— he _moved_.

The wood beneath his tummy had slipped and his head dropped under the water! Cold liquid seeped into his clothes and chilled him to the bone; gasping out he sputtered as water climbed down his throat and jumped up into his nose. Breaching the surface he grabbed desperately for the trunk of the tree he previously was attached to. His fingernails chipped off but he clung to the wet driftwood as tight as he could, ignoring the splinters that wedged themselves deep into his palms he shook as he held tight against the wood and raging current

"Help!" He screamed as fear caught hold of his throat. Gohan closed his eyes and pressed his head against the wet bark, he thought he could hear someone calling out to him but the roar of the water washed everything else out.

"Gohan!" Snapping his stinging eyes open he looked back over his shoulder, even with small specks of water slapping his cheeks he could make out the distinct figure of his father looming over him.

Relief pouring into his cold body he pulled slightly away from the log only for his head to be forced under. Pain bloomed from his hands as he continued to hold tight despite the forceful tugging against his legs. Coughing, he snorted as water poured out of his nose and sloshed in his lungs, "Daddy!" He cried out feeling tears sting at his already abused eyes.

The same feeling of fear and helplessness that he faced earlier resurfaced, only this time he really _was_ powerless to stop it. No amount of applied science could get him out of his trouble. For all that Gohan was smart, the good it did was minimal. He blanked out, resting his cheek against the rough surface as he watched a small break in the mountain come closer. The roof of the cavern might be too small and it might take off his head or he might finally let go of his painful grip on the lumber and be swept away.

What a day it was turning out to be.

Dark snatched him up like a dream, the only thing allowing him to believe he was still there, still in the river, was the deafening sound of the river around him. The cold combined with the rough turning of the water had made him lose feeling in his legs, in fact, the only thing still _feeling_ was his tortured hands. And they hurt _so bad_. A light flickered but it was _so_ far away and he found himself giving up.

But then he wasn't. He was still scared, but he was also angry. He wouldn't even be in this position if it weren't for his mom and dad! If they spent as much time focused on _him_ as they were on themselves then _maybe_!

His hands clutching the woods slipped. His eyes sprang open. Clothes clung to him like a second skin that wore him down and threatened to double his weight. But instead of dropping further into a raging rapid if he let go he'd fall from thousands of feet above.

"Aaugh?!" Gohan screeched holding tighter to the branch he clung to, wrapping his tail and chunky thighs around the protruding wood he watched with a dry throat as the log he had been attached to fell and splintered into pieces at the bottom of the waterfall.

That could have been _him_.

Sobbing in relief he had to force himself not to let go even as his body shook enough to sway his support. "Daddy!" He called out as a familiar golden cloud hovered into his view. With no time wasted he jumped from the branch onto his father's lap, "I almost fell." He said, wiping his eyes as he choked on something vaguely resembling a laugh and a cry.

"How the heck did you get up there?" His dad asked completely ignoring him. Gohan shrugged, burying his father into his father's gi and inhaling the scent of sweat and pine. An even better comfort was the feel of the bright colored cloth. It was _dry_ and it was _warm_. Snuggling as close as he could get to his father's chest he almost wanted to tell his father to leave him at home and to go to the family reunion on his own. But he didn't, and his father made a quick detour to pick up a towel before they were in the air again. He refrained from speaking up about his torn up hands and blue-tipped fingers but he couldn't hide the sound of his chattering teeth and he continued to tug at his overcoat that hung heavy on his shoulders like weights.

Gohan wanted more than anything else to put on some dry clothes and take a nap but his dad shushed him and told him that he'd definitely not want to sleep through meeting his friends. So he didn't even though the sun was about halfway through the sky, which normally meant nap time. His eyes slumped but he did his best to stay awake against his father's leg.

The nimbus worked fast, carrying them over long stretches of land and an even longer stretch of water. Curiously enough his dad didn't have to direct it this time, Gohan sat in his lap and observed his dad looking around leaving all the work to nimbus. Had his dad taken this path so many times that it was pre-programmed into nimbus? His fingers worked against the soft give of the golden cloud as he pondered. He was getting cranky; he could feel the grumpy feeling growing as each mile passed by, it was a good thing though. With each added milligram of exhaustion that poured into his body, it replaced the bitter emotions that plagued his mind for most of the day. He found the grudge he held against his dad for not showing up sooner disappearing under the weight of the Sandman's spell.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, son?" Feeling the rumble in his dad's chest spread through his body he slumped back even further.

"I'm sorry." He started, "I lost my hat."

Daddy giggled, his hand ruffling his already wild hair, "You mean this old thing?" He asked before dropping a bright red object into his hands, "Don't worry about it, it's all in one piece. I almost forgot I picked it up."

"Where'd you find it?" Gohan asked as he placed it on his head, smoothing the fabric down to cover his chilled ears.

Daddy hummed, pausing to take a closer look at something below him, "I saw one of the big cats running around with it. You should be careful when playing with them, Gohan, they're troublemakers."

Gohan bit his lip, fighting off the urge to pout and tell his dad that he wasn't playing with the local animal. He'd been genuinely afraid and was more than certain that his forest trips would take an even longer hiatus. The outside world was becoming increasingly scary to him. How many times today alone had he assumed the worst? Maybe his mom was right to keep him cooped up inside all day. His world that blossomed between the pages of his books were much more interesting and safe than the world outside of his small home.

Looking down at his father's hands he interlaced them with his own, marveling at how small his own were in comparison, he could feel his dads questioning gaze on his head but ignored it. His father propped his chin on his head and Gohan finally felt content. Although his dad wasn't the best at parenting, he did try, Gohan mused as he thought back to the conversation he shared with his mother. He thinks he can understand.

"Son?" Dad asked while rising from his cross-legged position, he had grabbed Gohan around his middle and placed him on his shoulders. "We're almost there! Man, I wonder what everyone's been up to. Oh! Maybe Master Roshi will let me borrow a shell, just for the weekend, I don't think your mom would be happy to know that I'm starting your training early." His dad blabbed as a grin stretched across his face. Gohan wanted to protest but the idea of training him made his dad happy so he decided to go along with it. If he didn't like it he could always quit later. Besides, his dad looked so happy, how could he tell him no?

Nimbus began to descend and Gohan could just make out a small, isolated island with only two trees and a pink house. Excited energy built up in his father's body, as shown by the huge grin and vibrating body, and Gohan felt his nervousness building up in exchange. His dad bellowed out his arrival and hopped down from the cloud loosely holding him in his strong arms. Gohan could hear the sound of feet against a wood floor and the long rambling of cheerful voices before the thin, screen door slammed open.

"Goku!" Three people cheered at the same time. They were a strange group for sure, one of them was tall and lithe with short, blue cropped hair. In front of them was a small man, his head bald with six small dots lining his large forehead and he… he was missing his nose? His mom used to play a game with him, one where she'd steal his nose but Gohan had always assumed it was only a game, but now he wasn't so sure. Still standing in the doorway watched an older man, his back was hunched and his fingers looked gnarled but, even with those ridiculous sunglasses Gohan could feel the weight of his gaze.

Gohan stumbled when his dad put him down, more so because of his lack of attention rather than him actually losing his balance, though the loose sand of the beach was odd compared to the compacted soil of the mountain. It was his first time away from the serenity of Mount Paozu, and while the tiny island was calming in its own rights, it simply didn't feel the same. With his fingers twisted in his dad's gi he felt the urge to hide behind his leg as everyone stared at him.

"Uh, Goku?" The tiny man started, "You take up babysitting recently?"

His dad laughed and rubbed the back of his head, "What? No way! He's my son." All three of them paled and scrutinized him harder, "His name is Gohan."

"Gohan, huh." The older man, who Gohan assumed was Master Roshi, said stroking his beard, "You decided to name him after your late grandfather. Well, I'm sure he'd be over the moon."

The blue haired woman chuckled nervously, "Yeah… over the moon, speaking of! Goku! Has anything… _strange_ ever happened when Gohan looked at the full moon?"

"No? Not that I'm aware of. We normally go to sleep pretty early. Chi-Chi says if we have to rise with the sun then we have to sleep when it sinks."

"Wise words of a martial artist," The man wearing a gi similar to his dads commented, "but horrible to live by. Man, I hated it when we had to get up that early to deliver milk." He complained as he glared at Master Roshi.

The old man only waved him off, "It got results, didn't it?"

"Enough bickering you two! This is supposed to be an enjoyable reunion." The lady said, "So, Gohan, how old are you, little guy?"

"Oh!" He stuttered, unprepared for the attention to turn to him, "I'm four years old miss…?"

"Just call me Bulma, I'm not that old, you know." She, Bulma, haughtily announced as she placed a hand on her hip. The man beside her snorted and smashed his hand into his mouth. Bulma's eyes sharpened as she turned her piercing gaze to him, "And what's so funny mister?"

"Please, Bulma, you were old when _I_ was young." Bulma reared back and hit the top of his shining head.

"Excuse you! I was only sixteen when he met! Even now, barely in my thirties mind you, I'm still rated as the hottest woman in all of West, North, and South city!"

"Yeah, and how much did Capsule Corps. have to pay them to make that happen?" He retorted and only crossed his arms when Bulma sneered revealing almost all of her teeth.

"Nothing, and unlike you, _I_ don't have to pay for _my_ dates!" This time, before the short man could retaliate with more barbs, Roshi intervened, stopping a fight from breaking out.

"Krillin, Bulma! Enough! Both of you!" Dad only laughed, his belly deep laugh seeming to work to calm all of them down, the angered and upset faces melting off into a nostalgic expression.

"Wow," Bulma started, "It's been years since I've traded quips with someone who could keep up with me." The man, Krillin, nodded.

"Yeah, I know what you mean, it brings me back. I haven't felt that young in a while."

Roshi snorted at his student, "Young? You say that as if your old. Wait until your knees give out on you, then you can say that."

"Geeze, I really missed you guys." Daddy said and smiled as Krillin barreled into him, both exchanged a long hug before breaking away, "It's just been kinda' slow up in the mountains, I'd have come sooner but Chi-Chi got pregnant, and then she wanted me to stay around the house and…"

"Don't worry about it Goku, we've all been a little caught up in our own lives. At least you've got a cute kid out of it." Bulma jested as she leaned against him.

Gohan could feel his face heat up slightly, he was content with being ignored, choosing to follow the lines of conversation rather than interrupt with his input. Digging the tip of his boot into the sand he willed his tail to flicker forwards; his fingers trailed along the tip and smoothed down any frazzled fur in an efforts to calm him a little.

"And he's so polite for his age, dad always told me I was such a brash kid, though I don't remember it. I'm certain he's got a few pictures stashed away of me stealing his cappuccino though." She continued as she peered down at him.

"So, Gohan, what do you want to do when you get older? Gonna fight like your daddy?" Krillin asked as he squatted to maintain eye level with him.

"Actually, Chi-Chi doesn't even want me to train him. Every time I ask it's ' _too soon_ ,' or ' _I don't want my son to be a muscle-headed—_ ,' uh… what's the word?" Goku paused, scratching his head in confusion.

"Muscle headed brute." Gohan shyly filled in, hearing Bulma giggle he felt a little confidence fill him, making him brave enough to talk on his own, "Mom wants me to be a scholar, and I like the idea of being an orthopedist but daddy likes to fight so I'd like to try it."

Krillin whistled, his eyebrows hiking up his head as he rose to stand on his feet, "That's a big word little man, are you sure your four? I don't even think I can spell that."

"Not everyone is as slow as you Krillin," Bulma joked, "but you're right, you must be pretty advanced, huh? It's good that you want to actually study unlike these meatheads here, though I think I agree with Chi-Chi, trying to train someone so young could be bad for his body."

His dad groaned, a sound Gohan recognized as a sound he made often around his mom when they had this exact same talk, "Not you too Bulma!"

With a reluctant face his dad dropped the subject but looked like he wanted to say more although something else caught his attention; his head had snapped up so fast that Gohan hadn't even seen it move. A large hand clapped down on his shoulder and pushed him in Bulma's direction as his dad dropped down into a half-stance half-squat. Looked over his shoulder he saw that Krillin was in a similar pose and even Master Roshi seemed to be tensing up. Only Bulma, who looked rather worried, seemed to share his confusion.

"Kakarrot!" A voice deep and booming called out from above.

From the skies stood a man standing on air. His hair was long and ragged, it fell down to his ankles and swayed gently in the breeze. He wore strange protruding clothing and his jaw was sharp; there was something feral about him, something Gohan could relate to the pictures of the _Homo_ _Neanderthalensis_ that was in one of his biology books. His figure, not short but hulkingly large, carried most of its weight up front and his brow was harshly carved out and prominent. He had a tendency to read ahead in science, nothing new, but for once he was glad. Because the man, his uncle, revealed that he was an alien. An outer space alien. He was a descendant of the Saiyan race, a primeval race of muscle-heads that fought for fun, food, and desire. Gohan wasn't particularly wrong about his previous comparison to _Homo Neanderthalensis_ , the Saiyans were eerily similar to them right down to the animal-like instincts and tail… which Gohan shared.

It was because of his similarities, his _heritage_ , that his father had to kill one hundred humans to save him. It was because of his _heritage_ that his uncle had snatched him from beside his father's wounded side. It was because of his tail that he could do nothing but cry and watch as he was taken from the island to a remote clearing.

And all of it happened too fast for him to even try to do anything to stop it.

Tears replaced themselves like oxygen replaced carbon dioxide. A continuous cycle that annoyed his uncle who roughly tugged on his tail until it felt like he was standing on jelly, rather than his own legs.

"Brat!" His uncle, Radditz, growled looking every bit of the scary alien he claimed to be, "A Saiyan, even a filthy _half-breed_ like yourself, shouldn't cry! And if you won't cease that irritable racket I'll stop it myself!"

"I'm, I'm," he stuttered over a hiccup, "sorry!" He said but didn't stop. He couldn't, not with the lump in his throat that grew by the minute, choking him and making it difficult to gather air into his lungs. His hands gripped at the bottom of his coat and he ached to hold his tail but with how tight his uncle had been holding it doing so would have brought him unfathomable pain.

"If you're sorry then stop. You know what we did to snifflers on _Vegeta-sei_?" He asked with a full smile barring all thirty-two of his teeth. Though he seemed more open than previous, it was obvious that his 'nostalgia' was fueled by malicious fuel.

"What did you do?" He whimpered

Radditz's thick fingers clamped onto the sides of his jaw forcing his mouth open. His free hand rose and grabbed his tongue between his calloused thumb and pointer finger; Gohan froze, afraid to move away and terrified to let even a single tear fall.

"We ripped the tongue from their mouths and made them eat it." His uncle chuckled unfazed by Gohan's shaking body, "And do you know what we did to _half-breed_ snifflers?" He could only stare into his uncles void like eyes, every ounce of his free-will stolen from him, "We killed them and delivered their body back to _mommy_ and _daddy_."

His uncle yanked his tongue roughly once and then let go of Gohan's abused pink muscle.

"No more crying, right, nephew?"

Gohan nodded, his head resting on his knees and focusing on the disturbed dirt between his feet.

"I'm glad we could come to a compromise."

* * *

 _I skimmed over parts we are already familiar with, like Radditz' introduction to Saiyanology 101, but i added to the beach scene, mostly because i wanted to add in some of the side characters flaws and bring them to light. When I said this story is going to be more realistic, I don't just mean on the battlefield. Bulma was almost unbelievably arrogant and better-than-you in the series. And Krillin was nasty and envious, they both did mature i'll give them that but i want to see it progress rather than it being shoved to the back. Also added to Gohan and Radditz, some Vegeta-sei building and nephew and uncle bonding. Also, guilty pleasure, in Gohans scared and rage filled mind he has started to develop a complex towards his parents once, he didn't have in the series. Once again though, in the beginning, I only skimmed over Gohans trauma of nearly dying twice, not because i want to! because you know, this story is mostly about that, but Gohan is four. Four-year-olds rarely retain any trace of memory, with his saiyan biology its hard to say if the same but trust me. those memories will pop up later in the fic. Now you may notice i've touched up on it but i'd like to clarify why i keep pushing the 'he's four years old' point. In child development, when you are four:_

 _Can speak but not clearly and its mostly rambles that are often knocked off track,_ _Walk up and down stairs, alternating feet - one foot per step._ _Kick, throw, and catch a ball._ _Climb well._ _Run more confidently._ _Bend over without falling._ _Help put on and remove clothing._

 _That's just physically what they are able to do, their mental abilities are even less. This isn't the most i'm going to rant about but I don't want to overload you with it._

 _Reviews make me update faster, just... saiyan._


	5. Playing Pretend

**_Chapter 4: Playing Pretend_**  
 ** _Arc: Castle of Glass_**  
 ** _"...Hardly anything else I need to be..."_**

* * *

 _Scratch_ , _scratch_ , went the sound of his stick in the dirt. In an effort to 'stifle his whining' Gohan had taken to scribbling in the soil to take his mind off of his situation. He drew the first things that entered his mind: the earth, a butterfly, Nimbus.

And when he ran out of things to draw he started practicing his math. The simple circuit he learned seemingly harder than ever to remember. He worked his way up anyway, starting out by counting the tallies he drew and then adding to them to get fifteen. He then drew one big line over all fifteen. Fifteen times one was fifteen. He drew another. Fifteen times two was… his hand curled tighter around his twig. He didn't know what it was. Not off the top of his head. So he drew another set of fifteen besides the ones already there.

Fifteen… twenty, twenty-four, twenty-nine... Thirty!

There were thirty ticks so he had only occupied himself for half of a minute.

Gohan moved over to science. There wasn't much he could apply his lessons to though, not without walking around his surroundings and examining some of the life around him. Risking a glance at his uncle, who looked anywhere but at him, he knew that getting up and risking getting hurt wasn't worth it. Resting his cheek on his knee he thought about the information he had learned today.

His daddy was an alien, so that made him an alien, too. Half of an alien. What did that mean for him? Was he an alien or a human? Did it matter? Fingering his tail he examined it, and then his hands which looked better than they had this morning though his skin was still torn up in the creases of his joints. He didn't look any different from his mommy, Krillin, or Bulma. So the Saiyans had to be _somewhat_ alike for the mixing of his DNA to be as stable as it was. Gohan wished he had completed his lesson on punnet squares before he left.

"...Mr. Radditz, sir?" Gohan started off softly, unsure if he was going to get scolded over his curiosity.

His uncle didn't bother to look down, instead, he answered with a curt grunt.

"Saiyans… _what_ are we?"

"Don't," Radditz snapped, " _you_ are _not_ apart of the Saiyan race. So don't include yourself. The only reason I'm considering letting you keep your worthless hide is that when Kakarrot completes his mission this planet will need someone to tell them who diminished their pitiful forces." As if deciding that it was worth his time Radditz finally turned to look at him and Gohan was shocked at his expression. Just like his father not so long ago his uncle, though looking at him, _dismissed_ him. He did something, unaware of what exactly, to _disappoint_ his family member.

"Like I told my brother, we are a warrior race, though not all of us were so promising. Some were fighters, some were scientists, and others were butchers. My father was a great man, a warrior through and through but he was smart too, coming up with our races biggest advantage. My mother on the other hand… a disgraceful wench. She was just like you, in fact, a cry-baby who couldn't stand on her own. A common butcher who should've been disintegrated the moment her power level went stagnant at three-hundred. I still don't know what father saw in her…" He went quiet, gaining a pensive look on his face.

"Maybe he was in love." Gohan offered, taking his uncles silence as a moment of weakness.

His uncle rewarded him with a harsh fist to his skull that made stars twirl before his eyes. Deep and mocking laughter fell from chapped lips as Radditz lifted him by the collar of his surcoat.

"Saiyans don't love. We aren't programmed to. The Saiyan race was the breeding pool of perfect fighters. Do you know why? There are only three needs that dominate our thought process: Fight, Feed, Fuck. Get it through your thick skull, mutt, Saiyan's aren't bred for love." Radditz sneered.

"You're wrong! Daddy loves me and mommy a lot!" He argued, glaring at his uncle who seemed amused at his display.

" _Are you sure about that_?" Before he could reply to his uncle the man continued, "Whatever, I don't have time to fuel a delusional toddlers imagination. Believe what you want." Without a word of warning his uncle flung him, and for the third time today Gohan was in the air, closing his eyes as he roughly hit the padded seating inside of his uncles' space pod he could only plead for his uncle not to seal him away. Not that his whining did anything, but him putting up a fight helped soothe his conscious. The hydraulic door slid into place dividing him from the outside world and Gohan couldn't help but scream. It was scary. He was stuck in a small space and it as eerily dark, the only light he had provided by the front window of the pod, which, was protected in a thick maroon glass that tinted the light a murky purple color. Despite it being in the prime of the day it looked like midnight to him.

Beating his hands against the glass he sobbed out for his uncle to open the door. With no grip on the smooth surface, he slid to the floor, his crying unheard. Throwing his small body at his containment he sniffled, "Uncle Radditz? Please, please, _please_ let me out, I'll be good! I won't ask any more questions and I'll… i'll…" He finished off lamely as it became harder to catch his breath. Clawing up his chest and throat was a familiar sensation that choked him and rendered him a crying mess. Mucus leaked into his mouth as he struggled to swallow the saliva that pooled in his mouth. His fingers reached up to tangle in his hair, threading the tangled strands, he yanked and yanked trying to find something other than the insatiable beating in his ears.

"Daddy, please come get me I'm scared and I want to go home." He whispered as an ugly sound bubbled past his lips. The day had been trash from the beginning and he wanted to throw it away and start over but he couldn't because he was _here_ but he didn't _want_ to be but he was and he couldn't do _anything_ about it.

Rocking on his heels he tried to think of anything to help him calm down but it wasn't working; he couldn't think of home because when he did he remembered how putout his mom was with him for choosing his father and he couldn't think of the tiny island he was just kidnapped from because that's where his daddy was laying in pain. The consequence of his age and living conditions had so thoroughly sectioned him off from the outside world that he only knew forest and beach and now fear. His books, the ones he cherished and favorited, the ones where he found great escapes in— all much to his mother's discomfort— were adventure and fantasy. But not even the words of a far off land could calm him down right now. Once, after reading a book about the sun, he had told his mom that he wanted to be an astronaut.

She cried.

And now he felt like crying too, because if people like his uncle were lurking behind the stars then maybe his mom was right for wanting him to stay grounded.

If he concentrated enough he felt like he could believe he was in space; it was dark enough inside of the pod and he could feel the cold seep into him from the metal giving off the illusion that he was alone in the void of space. His breathing was already labored, so he could pretend it was just the space suit making it harder to get air and he felt a little light headed but it was because of the lack of atmosphere.

It all made sense to him now. Gohan was just on an adventure and he had forgotten he had left.

More than happy to be left alone in his conjured up world he was unbelievably shaken when the sound of horrible screams penetrated the thick glass and reached his ears. No amount of pretending could block it out— that was his daddy, and he sounded hurt. Gohan dug his fingernails into the thick hem of his clothes. What was going on out there?

Trying as hard as he could he simply couldn't see over the crater the pod sat in. He was forced into idleness, his forehead pressed firmly against the glass as the shrieks filtered through. He felt so helpless. For the third time today. His hand pressed to the glass, digging his fingers into the reflective surface he willed them to crack the glass, it wasn't working! He had to do something!

Rearing his fist back, in a bad imitation of his father because once he hit the glass his thumb, which was tucked under his other four fingers, hurt real bad. It didn't even leave a crack. Letting out his own cry of pain that fell into harmony with his dad's he drew back and hit it harder ignoring the dull ache in his hand. It, _he hit the glass again_ , wasn't, _again_ , working, _again_! Crouching, he held his battered hand close to his chest and ground his teeth together. Gohan could feel his tail flick out in anger that only fueled the burning coals in his chest. Angrily wiping away the tears that fell down his checks he stood in the small space.

"Stop it!" He yelled despite knowing his voice wouldn't carry.

It was hard to focus, with the drums beating in his ears and boiling his blood, but he had to!

"Stop doing that!"

If he didn't get out who would help his daddy? Who would help _him_?

"Don't hurt him!"

His dad was out there, in very obvious pain, and he was stuck in here, crying because it was dark.

" _Listen to me_!" Gohan roared as he felt his shoulders tense and more tears build.

Would his dad be disappointed in him if he couldn't get out? Would his mom sit up late into the night waiting for them for them to return only for them never to come back? Would his uncle hurt him like he was hurting his daddy?

A gong, loud and screaming clanged together in his brain joining in the dull symphony of the drums, it raced in time with his pulse calling out for him to deliver punishment. Breathing, no matter how taxing it was to do so, was a hard task to accomplish with the music as loud as it was. Unhinging his jaw he screamed; it was odd, the feeling of being displaced. Because he certainly didn't know what he was doing, but he could feel that it was _right_. Jumping up he marveled at the feeling of steel and aluminum giving at the force of his fist. There was a part of him that wanted to stop, and think and just stop the crawling under his skin in general, but he couldn't will himself to. Gohan was caught up in himself and his uncle. Who just happened to be the first person he saw. Hardly anyone else registered, not even his father, who was under said uncles foot.

 _Do it_. He wanted to. _Hurt him_. He wanted to hurt him, make him _cry,_ like he made Gohan himself cry and like he made his dad hurt. _So do it_.

And he did.

Launching forward he threw all of his energy and momentum into going forward, not stopping to consider gravity— because it felt like it didn't exist— or that he was actually going to hurt someone. He just had to. It felt _right_ to do it and it—

It _scared_ him.

At the last moment, he tried to pull back but he couldn't. He was too close to the target and he couldn't slow down. Throwing his hands out did little to stop him as his palms, and then his cranium crashed into the hard planes of his uncles' armor.

It hurt.

And everything down to his shoulders was numb.

His teeth had clacked roughly together; bones popped like splinters over a fire. White noise swished in his ears and drowned out the harmony that had made him _wake up_.

Gohan went back under, oblivious to the victory he scored. The dreams of space wrapping around his body leaving the swaying grass and bright sky leaving to be a thing of the past. He couldn't wait to tell his mom that he became an astronaut, even if it was just for the moment.

* * *

 _Shorter Chapter than normal because Gohan wasn't relevant to the Radditz fight until the very end. The next chapter is long as balls and the start of the next arc ending my little character building arc. I mean, it'll still happen, but i won't be able to throw it in willy nilly. But Piccolooooo so it's okay. Yes, Piccolo is my favorite, or second favorite character. Yes, he will basically be the second main character. Yes, he will be Gohan's 'daddy'. But I am doing a realistic run through so it's, unfortunately, going to be a good era or two until we see fluff. We can see from this chapter that Gohan's psyche is starting to chip. The first of many cracks I assure you. Like a child, he was able to put off most of the events in this chapter, either by keeping himself busy or pretending though i didn't do too good to capitalize on that, which is my bad but this chapter is low-key rushed which i apologize for. Gotta clarify again, I'm taking my (future) portrayal of Goku from Toriyama, in his own words says that Goku is "not a good person... and is rather selfish..." I'm not gonna shit on him for no reason but woooo boy im waiting to write his selfish characteristics because writing dark and depressing is what I do best and Gohan's gonna have a lot of that dealing with his dad._

 _Please review and tell me what you think of the chapter! Or tell me what you want to see from this story, what do you expect from it! Do you like my bottom chapter ranting or do you want me to cut them? Will you mind me bending certain parts of the plot?_

 _Next time on Can't Be Who You Are: Wilderness, Water, and A turban- not in that order._


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